


Even if Coffee Wasn't Forthcoming

by bees_stories



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Food Sex, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, POV Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7241641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets creative when he decides he and Sherlock have been celibate long enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even if Coffee Wasn't Forthcoming

***

"John, what are you doing?"

What John was doing was obvious; he was smearing strawberry jam on the exposed V of bare skin that lay between the lapels of Sherlock's dressing gown.

The correct question was, 'Why are you doing that?', because as every right-thinking person knew, the correct place to apply jam, when one was in the kitchen, was on hot buttered toast, or possibly a freshly baked scone. 

Sherlock attributed the sloppiness of his interrogatory technique to surprise, and to the fact he was not entirely awake, having only just risen a few minutes earlier with a nearly terminal case of caffeine depletion. He had hoped, when he had spotted John at the kitchen table, that his need for coffee would be summarily assuaged as John poured, without asking, a revivifying cup. 

John took a step backwards and seemed to admire his efforts. He then made a pointed demonstration of sucking jam from his fingers, drawing them slowly in and out from between his lips in a decidedly suggestive manner, until they were clean again. 

Belatedly, as he swallowed against a suddenly flow of saliva, Sherlock realised two things: That no coffee was about to be forthcoming, and that John had decided that it was time to end their work-induced period of celibacy. It also appeared that rather than doing something straightforward – like inviting himself into Sherlock's bed – he had chosen to take a different, and rather extraordinary, tack. 

No longer sleepy, and willing to indulge his partner's idiosyncratic behaviour up to a point, Sherlock held himself stock-still as John leant forward and untied the bow that held his dressing gown closed. The grey silk parted, leaving Sherlock's chest completely exposed. 

"Very nice," John murmured. "You look absolutely edible." He began to draw his tongue over Sherlock's body, alternating nibbling and lapping at both jam-covered and naked skin, taking a taste here, and then darting away to tease some place completely different.

John hummed as he dragged an open-mouthed kiss over Sherlock's nipple that brought a smear of jam with it, and then he sucked the nipple clean, flicking his tongue over the areola until Sherlock moaned and raised his hands to hold John's head in place. 

John used his teeth to nip, a silent admonishment. He deliberately moved Sherlock's hands until they were at his sides. The message was clear; John was setting the pace, and he didn't want any interference. 

Sherlock contemplated the back of John's grey-blond hair as he let go of the nipple and began to tease at a new spot, directly over Sherlock's jam-covered breastbone. It would be so easy to turn the tables. To reach for the jam jar and smear a crimson streaks over John's most sensitive places and hold him down, tormenting every last vulnerable inch with his lips and tongue, until it was John who was begging for release. 

Despite the wilful impulse, Sherlock held himself at attention, clenching and unclenching his fingers into fists as John ghosted his palms against silk, and then pushed the pyjama bottoms over Sherlock's hips and downward, until they were pooled on the floor and it seemed prudent to kick them off completely.

"John – " Sherlock groaned as more jam was applied with a firm upstroke that left him coated from root to crown. 

"You may hold on to the back of the chair," John said, and then he dropped onto his knees. 

John pressed more open-mouthed kisses against Sherlock's skin, over his belly, and against his upper thighs. Gradually he worked his way inward and down. Sherlock tensed as, at long last, a warm wet stroke of John's tongue caressed his shaft. He let his eyes drift closed and clutched the back of the chair a little tighter, resisting the urge to guide John into position and then thrust his hips forward. 

To stop the teasing caresses. 

To stop the sucking kisses.

To stop the nipping and nibbling that were pleasing to John, but driving him mad, and making his erection ache with frustration. 

What Sherlock wanted, as he stood with his trembling fingers locked around the back of the chair, was to fuck John's open mouth. 

What Sherlock wanted was to thrust his strawberry jam-covered penis over John's tongue, pistoning his hips until the tension that was pooling in the base of his belly unwound, and he, at long last, could find his release.

"Good," John murmured. "You're doing very well, Sherlock." 

Firm strokes of John's tongue began to alternate with sucking kisses, and then teasing fingers replaced both as John paused the oral pleasuring so that he could open his mouth wide and stretch the sinews and muscles of his jaw. He kissed the crown of Sherlock's penis softly, lapping jam away until only a steady seepage of clear pre-come remained to flow onto his tongue. 

Sherlock moaned as he was engulfed to the root. The urge to grab the back of John's head and hold him in place became almost overwhelming. He clutched at the chair's wooden top piece until it creaked. 

John chuckled, and the vibration against his penis made Sherlock's testicles contract with anticipation.

He moaned again, more loudly this time as his body began to tense. 

John made a pleased sound, and then he upped his tempo, fucking Sherlock with his mouth until he was teetering on the edge of orgasm.

Abruptly, John pulled away. He rose to his feet and met Sherlock's surprised gaze. 

"God, you should see the state of you." There was admiration and lust in John's huskily-voiced comment. "You are absolutely …" He trailed off, at a loss for words. 

"John, please." Sherlock dropped his eyes. 

"It will be worth it." John reached out and gently unfolded Sherlock's fingers from the chair. "Trust me." He took Sherlock's hand in his and led the way into the bedroom, stopping only to shut the door firmly behind them before he pushed away the nest of bedclothes and guided Sherlock down onto the mattress.

They kissed as John cast off his dressing gown, revealing an equally rampant penis. They moaned in unison as John pressed close and cupped his hand around both their erections. 

He began to stroke, using the same deliberate tempo that had been so frustrating at the beginning of the blow job, and then he used his free hand to raise Sherlock's palm until it rested against his shoulder.

John was right. The delay was worth it. At last given tacit permission to touch his partner, Sherlock rained kisses against John's face. He touched him everywhere he could reach; back, arms, chest, and the sensitive spot at his throat.

At last, when he was unable to resist any longer, Sherlock wrapped his larger palm over John's and began to stroke in a slightly more rapid tempo. 

"That's it, Sherlock," John sighed against Sherlock's ear. "God, just like that." 

A rising wave of pleasure had shut down Sherlock's speech centre and all he could manage was a guttural moan. He pushed John's hand away and then pulled his body down on top of him so that they were locked groin to groin with their arms and legs intertwined. 

Sherlock rocked his pelvis upward. Once. Twice. Three times. And then he stilled, lost in pleasure as John cried out, and a warm spill of semen ran slick over their bellies. 

They lay there, chests heaving, as they sucked air back into their lungs. Sherlock was peripherally aware that although John had spent a great deal of time licking away the jam, that his skin was still somewhat sticky. 

He decided that he didn't mind. John's rather avant garde seduction technique had been ultimately rewarding. However, he thought as he regarded the smile that was bowing John's mouth, it was also true that turnabout was fair play … 

Sherlock sprang up from the bed as John made a sputtering sound of surprise, and retrieved the jam jar from the kitchen. 

There was something to be said for breakfast in bed … 

even if coffee wasn't forthcoming.

end


End file.
